I'll Wait
by Princespain
Summary: He always knew he cared for her,always knew he would wait for her to be ready, but could a tragic accident change his desire to just wait...


_I'll always be there when it matters, _he thought as he stared into her flighty wide eyes. He sat over her on the hospital bed, his face open and dark to give respite to her frantic stare. Her mouth raced to tell him things she didn't think she remembered, and she clutched at his shirt. He kept a hand firmly beneath her shoulder and another against her burning head. In moments of tenderness, he was moved to stroke her hair; it smelled still of smoke and rubber and a faint hint of blood, which turned his stomach momentarily and had him squeezing her shoulder more tightly than he wanted to. It was a tiny allowance, considering _all_ the things he wanted.

He wanted to pile her up into his arms in the hospital blankets and press his rough cheek against her forehead. He wanted to break all the codes that he swore to, to serve and protect on the doctor who had all but pronounced her dead. He wanted to inflict the same pain on those who had inflicted pain upon her.

He felt his teeth clench as he tensed against the rising of his chest into his throat. Sometimes it took so little to resist, and sometimes it was like clawing his way to the surface of a never ending hole. His blood boiled through his neck and head, and his vision of her seemed to float and waver in front of him. Sometimes it was too much.

He wanted to run away, to go back undercover and lose himself not come back. He wanted to become someone else, to forget who he was, and forget this day had ever happened.

She reached for his face and he shut his eyes, being still for her touch, but her hand fluttered away at the last moment. His face didn't show his disappointment. His features remained soft, and the shadows in his eyes made him seem gentle and half-veiled. In her panic, his soft darkness was a fine escape from the harsh reality that she faced.

_I'm not leaving you._

* * *

Andy's third mug of coffee was only drops-left at 11:30am, but her head hit her palms at noon anyway.

"You should get some sleep," Nick said.

When she objected to going home, nick pointed to an empty couch in one of the family rooms

"I do it whenever I need a little shut-eye," he said with a shrug. Sam caught her eye and smirked.

Andy closed her open mouth with a slight downward tug of her head. "Right," she said. Rubbing her eyes, she stood and swung her jacket over her shoulder. "Anyone else for coffee?"

"Half-caff Mocha latte," Gail called from behind an array of reports. _Extra_ whip to."

Sam walked over to Andy, reached for her free hand and held it up loosely at the wrist. They both watched her fingers' caffeinated tremble. Andy squinted and half-smiled. "Yeah, you sure do need a refill," he drawled. "You know, most people _sleep_ when they're tired. I mean, at least once a week." Once a week. But it had been weeks since the accident, and he didn't know the number of nights she'd slept, through the night or at all. The cuts on her face had healed but everything she did reminded him that her blood was so close to the surface of her skin. So easy to spill. He couldn't envelop her, but he could try.

"Thanks," she said, tilting her head.

He rolled his eyes and headed back to his desk to grab his jacket. "Let's go."

Nick smiled and resumed his work on his daunting pile of reports as they walked out the door.

* * *

"Driving without sleep is more dangerous than driving legally drunk," Sam said as they walked out to the car. She shot him a sidelong look.

"Just so you know why you aren't driving," he said. She conceded without argument and slid into the passenger side of the unmarked cruiser. Sam started the car, Andy sighed as she looked out the window, and this felt so normal. The car smell and the engine vibrations and the sun filtering through the window hypnotized her as Sam drove through the fall streets of Toronto. Outside air came in through the vents and she could smell someone barbequing. She closed her eyes and leaned into the side panel, and didn't even notice that Sam was driving in circles as she fell asleep.

She woke up feeling warm, although it was much darker outside than she remembered. With a small jolt, she raised her head. "Sam? What's going on?" There was something heavy on her arm: a jacket. Leather jacket. Sam's jacket. And then Sam's hand, on her shoulder, and then Sam's voice:

"Hey, it's okay." And then Sam's face, quietly smiling.

She relaxed and let her head fall back against the seat.

"How're you feeling?" His voice was low and calm. Andy yawned in response.

"Better."

"How long since you slept the night?"

She looked down and fussed with his jacket.

"Hey," he said smirk, raising his hand to his chest and his most self-deprecating expression, "you're talking to a king insomnia." She gave him a little smile but said nothing in response. He sat back in his seat and looked softly at her while she woke up bit by bit. She looked through the windows at the glowing city lights.

"Where are we?"

"Where else?" he asked, and pointed over his shoulder at a bright flashing sign. "Food."

Andy began to say something that Sam just _knew _would be contrary, and he cut her off. "No protest, or no poutine." He opened his door into the night and headed around to open hers.

The poutine had come as promised, filled with grease and melted cheese goodness, Andy devoured them quickly,

"Let's get some ice cream," she said as she cleaned her plate.

"How about something that might count as real food?" Sam said, nudging the menu across the patchy Formica tabletop.

Fifteen minutes later, an enticingly large cheeseburger floated through the swinging kitchen doors, flanked by more poutine.

"That _was_ the bargain," Andy said as she started in on the second batch of poutine first.

"I didn't know you were such an addict when it came to poutine," Sam said, his face was illuminated with the comfort he derived from watching her color come back as she ate. He wasn't hungry, but he took enthusiastic bites of whatever it was on the plate in front of him to encourage her.

"You're looking better," he said.

"I _feel _better," she said, starting in on the burger. Sam reached for a stray fry and was shocked to hear her growl at him. He cocked his head.

"Did you just..." he began, and she snorted and dipped her head, laughing and giddy with the insulin rush.

Sam sat back into the booth, resting his forearms on the cool table and letting his eyes graze the sights of the diner. He felt, more than saw, Andy's satisfaction with him. He would have been satisfied to draw the moment out indefinitely, but bite by bite the mammoth cheeseburger disappeared. _Ah, well. All good things._

"Ready?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. She nodded, wiping ketchup from the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks," she said.

"Thank the department," he grinned, flashing his police issued credit card as he went to the counter to pay.

Andy inhaled the last of her Chocolate milk shake from the clear plastic cup and stood, stretching beside the booth. Something sloughed from her shoulders and she looked down into the seat and saw Sam's jacket in a heap. She was riveted for a moment, unable to look away from the soft-tanned sea of black. He had put it over her as she slept. He had maybe even touched her as she slept, his hands grazing some tiny part of her chin or arms. He had been there as she'd slept, maybe for hours.

Picking up the jacket, she took her first deep breath since before she'd started eating and she realized she'd been smelling him since she woke up, in tiny drifts of scent. It was on her. The jacket. She hadn't even thought to smell it while it was covering her, and now she couldn't think of a credible reason to do it, although the desire was sudden and intense.

"Should we sit down and start fresh? "Andy voice behind her startled her. "I hear the fries are good."

Andy turned, pushing the jacket at his chest. She frowned slightly as she wrestled with whether to ask him if he had really sat in a parked car for hours just so she could take a nap. And why. Although there were precious few answers to that question, each one its own kind of discomfiting.

"Thanks," she said lamely, offering the jacket again. He took it and was slightly concerned about the distant expression on her face.

"Hey," he said, angling to meet her eyes, which were glued to the linoleum parquet. Her gaze flickered up to him momentarily, and he saw chagrin and unease overtaking her prior delight. He spread his arms. "What did I do?" he asked good-naturedly. He wanted it to be about him. He wanted it so badly to be about him. _Let it have made her uneasy to have slept so close to me. Let it have set her off-balance to wake up under my jacket._ At some point, if his charm failed him, he knew unease would be the thing to force the confrontation that could bring them together. He could wait, he _could _outlast her, but that didn't mean he was keen on it happening.

With his arms outstretched, Sam looked disarming, but at the same time he extended to the edges of her field of vision. How easily it could be a threat, and just as easily the moment before an embrace. "Nothing," she said. "This...was nice of you."

They looked at each other for another moment in silence, each gauging the other. Andy dropped his arms. He handed the jacket back to her.

"Hold on to this. It got cold since I abducted you," he said. He anticipated her refusal and before she could argue he'd started outside, strides ahead of her and fishing for his keys. She was grateful he'd saved her from having to go through the motions; in truth she'd had no rebuttal worth a damn. Taking her time, she slipped the sleeves over her arms, ducking her head as it swept around her back to catch her breath in the collar.

The ride back to the barn was warm and sweet. Sam had been quick to dispel Andy's momentary awkwardness with wordy jokes about what Oliver would be doing when they returned. Andy relaxed enough to recline her seat, albeit slightly, and rest her head as she looked out on the blur of townhouses and taillights.

It was so different to feel safe.

Their turnoff approached. The green road signs flashed past her.

"Sam," she murmured. He heard the softness in her voice.

"Yes?"

"Let's drive."

And just like that, their exit sign flashed and vanished into the distance.

Please give me your thoughts if I should continue. and what you think thanks :)


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